Tornado
Orange cabbages with worms for faces danced profusely under the two suns, one white and one red, until they exploded into trash cans and shattered all that was left of our home. One sun set with the sky a bright green, revealing a white carpet of leaves, and that was the last we saw of it. It went on like that for fifteen long days till one day, at the beginning of July, that was one bright, golden hour, it all dawned. After that, we knew only light of day. The night in our yard was always as black as night in our house. But we didn't know it, so we couldn't sleep without fear. But we found light in our dreams – we came to know the colors and sounds, and our world is changed forever. For five years, every day, the sun had been shining with such brilliance, it seemed as if there had been an endless night of lights, all the stars, all the stars had been shining. We loved it when we saw it. That's how we know it was the sun that first broke through the bubble, so that's why I was there." "Do you know how many people in the village were affected?" asked the doctor. "About a hundred," said Kiel. The doctors had been preparing for the morning and night without much delay. There was no more use in explaining to the villagers what should have been known all along. What they needed was the truth. Sitting close to her bed, Kiel watched the bright sun rise. A few seconds later it was gone. She opened the door to see the sun setting just above the mountain range. As soon as she opened the door, Kiel saw the young physician standing there, his brow furrowed. His white robes were draped over his body and he held a paper notebook in his hands. "Good morning, Miss Kiel." The physician said in a gentle tone. "Morning sir. I've brought you the news, didn't I?" Kiel nodded. "I see," he said, taking a huge, tired breath. "I'm very sorry, Professor McGonagall. I was about to tell you so. This is what happened to your son, Harry. And it is the greatest danger I have ever observed. I can assure you, Professor – "That is the last word I will say," said Professor McGonagall, cutting the professor off abruptly at this point, her face becoming increasingly pale. "Oh," Harry said, looking stricken, "Sorry, Professor. I just wanted to tell you something, is that all?" "Well, yes, actually that all," the Headmaster said, shaking the man in his arms. "This is the greatest danger I have ever observed, Harry, and it is because of what you did that I was forced to put you in our Durmstrang dormitory." "We did not kill each other," Harry said solemnly, "we never did. We were – I would even say in love – but that all began when you, Ron, and Hermione got engaged "And then, that was the last time I saw my parents in a long time." Harry shook his head. "No, Ron. It can't be that way. I'd be dead if they would notice me disappearing." "What do you mean by that?" "The death ate them all and I didn't want their memories." Harry looked down at his right breast. "They were all dead, really." "Then you mean they were all with Death Eaters." Ron said slowly. "Yeah." Harry replied, not sure what else he could say to that. "Some of them were. Some of them weren't. The reason they didn't notice me leaving was because they were all dead." "That's... that's... that's...," Ron tried to finish his thought. "They're dead, really." Silence fell throughout the school once the last of Dumbledore's guards had left, the crowd leaving him alone with the young witch who had been watching him, the man sighed. "That is the idea, you idiot." "What are you thinking, Potter?" "I think it would be better not to go off on this tangent at the moment and see how things go." Harry grinned. "But if it turns out she actually does like you…well…there's always you." Ginny's eyes opened to a warm, welcoming gaze. "Harry…" she began, uncertainly. "Molly, darling, it's not like I'd have anything to do with you," he added, knowing full well that this was not the right time. "Well, no. It's not like that. Just...don't. You know, just…don't do this. Don't do. It." She was almost pleading, and Harry was tempted to remind her that it was not Ginny's problem and she had every right to be angry about it, but it was not, and Harry was not. He didn't want that, he didn't need that, and he didn't want anyone else to know what was happening, so he kept his mouth shut. He sat on the bed, his arm over his pillow. He didn't want to tell the others what Harry was thinking about them, or how he felt, or anything that would make them doubt his guilt. He just wanted to keep their privacy intact, for as long as possible. Harry was looking at him, his eyes wide. He hadn't said a word since the war started; Harry knew his face was still covered in dust and mud, that the red stains on his face and his arms were still fresh. Harry wasn't sure how long he'd been in the hospital wing, but the doctors' faces had all turned to stone. His legs had swollen up a bit, and the other side of his face had cramp up a bit. He'd never been so depressed in his life. He knew it wasn't healthy, but no, he didn't want anyone to know how unhappy he was. "Harry, what's going on?" Category:Neural networkian